I knew him as myself; for from our infancy We have convers’d and spent our hours together; And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection, Yet hath Sir Proteus,—for that’s his name,— Made use and fair advantage of his days: His years but young, but his experience old; His head unmellowed, but his judgment ripe; And, in a word,—for far behind his worth Comes all the praises that I now bestow,— He is complete…